Out of the silent planet, Out of the silent planet we are...
Withered hands, withered bodies begging for salvation, Deserted by the hands of gods of their own creation. Nations cry underneath decaying skies above, You are guilty, the punishment is death for all who live.
Out of the desert planet Dreams of desolation, Out of the desert planet Come the demons of creation.
The killing fields, the grinding wheels crushed by equilibrium. Separate lives, no more disguise, no more second chances. Haggard wisdom spitting out the bitter taste of hate. I accuse you before you know the crime it's all too late.
Out of the desert planet Dreams of desolation, Out of the desert planet Come the demons of creation.
Out of the silent planet, Out of the silent planet we are...